


I'm A Sucker For The Way That You Move

by evieoh



Series: stripper!ward [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Belligerent Sexual Tension, F/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Stripper!Ward, semi-resolved sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieoh/pseuds/evieoh
Summary: His breath is cool on her shoulder as he leans down to murmur in her ear. “You’ve been avoiding me.”“Please,” she scoffs, inwardly proud of how steady her voice sounds despite the sudden dryness of her throat. “You weren’t that memorable.”Instead of reacting to the derision in her voice with the expected bruised male pride, Ward shifts closer to her and she can feel his smirk against her throat when she can’t quite hide her reaction to his proximity.“Liar.”3 weeks after they spent an incredible night together and Skye bolted the next morning, she and Ward are thrown together by fate (or their pushy friends) once more and sparks fly again





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/gifts).



> sequel to stripper fic. It only took me two years lol. 
> 
> I posted the first chapter on my tumblr back in January as a birthday gift for the fabulous VesperassAnuna, but I finally managed to finish the second chapter so here you go. 
> 
> (Special thanks to Pia_Bartolini for her description of Ward as a horny sex panther in her comment on the first story)
> 
> (And, as always, the hugest of thank yous to my amazing beta/cheerreader/saver of my sanity, Stargazerdaisy. Without her none of my stories would get beyond that random rambling idea stage.)

Bobbi and Hunter have been in an _off_ phase of their relationship for the last 3 weeks, so when the blonde suggested they all go out to a club on Friday night Skye hadn’t considered the possibility of Hunter being there too. Or more specifically, any of Hunter’s co-workers being there.

So Skye stops dead in her tracks when she spots Ward at the bar, laughing at something Trip said while Hunter glares at the pair of them.

Bobbi and Jemma both crash into her back at her sudden stop, and judging by the smug look of faux innocence on Bobbi’s face when Skye tilts her head towards the bar in explanation, Skye is cluing into the setup here fairly quick. Her friends have never exactly mastered the art of subtlety, and none of them have made the slightest attempt at hiding their feelings about Skye’s refusal to see Ward after the night they spent together on Hunter’s birthday.

(That amazing night that left her with slightly shaky legs and an endorphin rush that lasted at least three days afterwards. Not to mention the goofy grin that would not dissipate and unfortunately led all of her friends to decide that clearly Skye’s destiny lay with Ward. Or that she at least needed to bang him again. It varied depending on who you asked.)

Deciding to avoid her friends’ smirking glances ( _and that part of her that feels faintly like she’s been hit with an electrical charge at the sight of Grant Ward in the flesh_ ), Skye veers away from her current trajectory towards the bar and heads for the dancefloor instead.

It’s still early, or early enough at least, that the dancefloor isn’t too crowded. That is both a welcome thing when it means Skye doesn’t have to deal with random strangers grinding on her or stepping on her feet, and less welcome when she realizes that the lack of a crowd means she doesn’t have a way to hide from Ward.

She can feel him watching her, his gaze heavy on the sway of her hips as she rolls them to the heavy bass beat. 

(She is absolutely not swinging her ass for his benefit. Not remotely.)

After awhile though, she manages to, if not exactly forget about him, then at least stop focusing so much on him. The past week had been a stressful one at work; rushing to get a project through approval before the deadline had her entire team working overtime every night. They managed to have everything finished today though, and her supervisor seemed happy with their work. So getting to get dressed up and come out for a night with her friends, to dance and let loose, was definitely needed. Skye lets go of the tension of the week, of her confusing mess of feelings where Ward is concerned, of everything other than the heavy pulse of the bass as moves up through her bones, losing herself in the music.

She’s not sure how long she’s been out there dancing on her own when Jemma appears at her side, trying to shout something at her over the music. After the third try, as Skye gestures at her that she can’t hear a word, her friend finally mimes downing a drink before waving towards the bar. Feeling loose and relaxed after dancing, Skye lets Jemma drag her off the dancefloor and over towards the group by the bar. It’s not until she’s standing right next to him that Skye remembers exactly why she was trying to avoid this earlier.

_He smells so damn good_. 

Even avoiding looking at him doesn’t help. All she can think about is how she can feel the warmth of his body this close; flashes of their night together running through her mind and unhelpfully reminding her just exactly what he looks like naked. The sound of Hunter cheering drags her attention back to their friends. Feeling flustered, Skye tries to make her move to put Fitz and Kara between her and Ward a subtle one, but going by the way the latter shakes her head at Skye, she doesn’t think she manages to pull it off. She gratefully grabs one of the shots that Hunter passes down the bar, so happy for the distraction that she doesn’t even bother to check what it is before knocking it back. The tequila burns, but she still reaches for a second one before grabbing Kara’s hand and dragging her bemused friend out to the dancefloor with her.

Thankfully back on the dancefloor it’s still too loud to speak, but Kara manages to make her feelings about Skye’s awkward escape known as she affectionately rolls her eyes. She’s a good friend though, so she lets Skye get away with it and dances with her instead of verbally calling her out.

The two girls dance for a few songs before Skye notices Trip approaching them through the noticeably thicker crowd on the floor. Kara has been very close-mouthed about her single date with Trip but she also has been sporting a goofy looking smile she thinks no one else has noticed anytime his name has been mentioned, so Skye knows something is up there. She’s so focused on getting the chance to get some revenge on Kara for all her teasing about Ward, that she doesn’t even register his looming form trailing behind Trip. Skye only notices him when she grabs Trip by the hand and pulls him in to dance with her and Kara, so the four of them somehow end up dancing in an awkward circle like they’re at a middle school formal. Soon enough though, Trip and Kara are very noticeably making some non-middle school moves on each other. Skye honestly can’t tell what percentage of their motivation for grinding on each other is their attraction to each other, and how much is just to make it as awkward as possible for Skye and Ward to try and avoid each other in the confined space.

For a second, Skye could almost swear she sees a flicker of something hesitant, almost shy, pass through Ward’s features as she glances at him through her lashes. But then he’s smirking at her, something glinting in his eye like that night on stage. She has the strangest impression of it being like putting on a mask, but then he’s moving closer to her, his eyes on her face as he gauges her response before he gets too close. Skye is gonna blame that memory of the night he danced for her for distracting her too much to remember that standing too close to him is dangerous.

She’s expecting him to say something, surprised when he moves behind her and starts to dance instead. He’s close, but not actually touching her. It manages to be both respectful and maddeningly frustrating, just the lightest touches as their bodies sway to the beat.

By the second song, Skye is pretty sure this is his latest form of torture for her. This almost touching that is only making her hyper-aware of his body while being unable to actually feel it pressed against her. At this point, with the bass throbbing in her blood and the lights of the dancefloor flickering behind her closed eyelids, his presence is the only thing she can focus on. In the end she is the one to close the gap between them, and even as she exhales in relief when his hands come down to rest on her hips, she’s pretty sure she can feel his identical rush of breath against the back of her neck.

She’s never been with a guy who liked to dance. Miles would never dance with her. The times she’d manage to drag him out to a club with her, he would always linger by the bar while she ventured out to the dance floor alone. She could never completely let go though, knowing he was waiting for her, knowing how much he hated the music and the people. Always worrying about random guys on the dancefloor getting too close while she was lost in the music.

Ward is an entirely different experience. Given what he does for a living she really shouldn’t be surprised, but there is still something unexpectedly intoxicating about the way he moves his body. The way the beat flows through his body, the confidence he moves with. The promise in the way his hips roll against her. Skye shudders as she remembers just how well those hips can move and she can tell that Ward catches the reaction, his fingers tightening on her hips for a moment.

His breath is cool on her shoulder as he leans down to murmur in her ear. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Please,” she scoffs, inwardly proud of how steady her voice sounds despite the sudden dryness of her throat. “You weren’t that memorable.”

Instead of reacting to the derision in her voice with the expected bruised male pride, Ward shifts closer to her and she can feel his smirk against her throat when she can’t quite hide her reaction to his proximity.

“Liar.”

His whisper sends a trail of goosebumps from her ear down her arm and it takes her a second to pull it together enough to step out of his personal space.

Skye’s suddenly rethinking the wisdom of those two shots of tequila, as her slightly-softened-at-the-edges brain stumbles on the way to remembering why stepping closer to him instead isn’t the smarter move here. There is something about him that feels like some kind of magnetic pull. She felt it that first night they met, even when they couldn’t stop bickering the whole night. She felt it onstage at the stripclub, his dark eyes on hers as he danced for her. And she definitely felt it the night of Hunter’s birthday, stumbling back to his house, unable to keep their hands off each other. She feels drunk around him whether or not she’s had anything to drink. It feels electric, uncontrollable. Dangerous.

She hasn’t exactly been avoiding him. She hasn’t not been either though.

Ward lets her step away easily, not trying to follow her even as she can see him searching her expression for something. His fingers trail up her back so lightly as they leave her hip though, and the graze of his fingers on her skin feels like fire even through the fabric of her top. It sends all the blood rushing away from her brain and decidedly somewhere lower. Even as she tells herself the truly smart move here would be to come up with an excuse and get off the dancefloor long enough to cool down, Skye finds herself taking a step closer and back into his arms, facing him this time. Apparently it’s too late and her hormones have taken control of her brain already.

He’s definitely smirking now. But there is still something else there in his expression that she can’t quite put her finger on. Skye’s not quite sure if it’s her desire to try and make him feel at least a little as off-kilter as she always feels when he is this close to her, or if she just wants an excuse to touch him. Either way her hands are sliding up his chest to curl around his shoulders, her thighs clenching as she feels the muscles in his stomach and chest tense under her touch. His hands come back to settle on her hips, guiding them to match the movement of his own even as they hold a few inches between their bodies. She’d like to blame the tequila, or Ward for looking like that, or even the DJ. But the truth is, this is exactly where she has wanted to be since she saw him at the bar. It’s what she’s wanted ever since she bolted from his apartment and the breakfast he made for her the morning after their night together. There is something about him that she feels drawn to, that she wants more of. And it terrifies her. She can’t read him, she feels like she’s stumbling into the situation blind and already five steps ahead of a rational level of attraction to a guy she barely knows. Somehow this feels so much more than their first night together, when she could tell herself that all she needed was to sleep with him once and she could get it out of her system. Somehow then she had no problem being bold. But now...now there is so much more to it and her mind is such a mess when it comes to him and what she wants from him. Everything feels like it carries that much more weight.

Her mind might be confused about what she wants, but her body is definitely not. She steps closer, without conscious permission, closing the gap between them as her hips grind more firmly against him. With her body pressed so close to his, she doesn’t miss the shudder that passes through Ward’s body at her action, his grip tensing on her hips. The heat that had been pooling between her thighs coils up through the rest of her body, warmth and tension settling through her as their chests brush with each inhale. His head drops down to rest his forehead against hers, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to kiss her, holds her breath in anticipation as she tilts her face up to his. He doesn’t move to close the distance between their mouths though, just lingers there, the rest of the club falling away as they share the space between them. Skye clenches her thighs together against the building ache, her underwear feeling damp as his hips push against hers briefly, but hard enough for her to feel the bulge in his pants. One of his arms is banded around her waist now, and she honestly feels like it might be the only thing keeping her upright. Then one of his legs is sliding between hers and something in Skye’s brain short-circuits as the rough denim of his jeans slides against the soft skin of her inner thighs, brushing teasingly against her underwear before pulling away as she groans. She’s not even really sure that what they’re doing counts as dancing together anymore. It’s like some kind of torture to see who can hold out the longest before one of them actually makes a move, and how far they can each push it before it actually counts as a move. Skye has almost managed to forget the crowded dance floor, where undoubtedly at least one of her friends is witnessing this and will be ready to give her hell about it later. Right now she doesn’t care, all she needs is for Ward to not let go of her. _How does he do this to her every time?_ , she wonders. _It’s like the rest of the world ceases to exist except for the two of them._

Her fingers clench as they twine around the back of his neck, her nails scraping over the skin and making him shiver as she belatedly remembers how ticklish he is.

He’s the one who chuckles lightly though, his voice low as he leans in closer to murmur in her ear. “Easy, Tiger. Do you know how much of a pain it was to try and cover up the scratches you left on me last time for work?”

The reminder of the fact that he makes his living being almost naked on stage for random women is a like splash of cold water on her overheated and hormonal body. She tries not to react outwardly, but Ward must notice something from the way he pulls back to study her face. Once again she’s struck by how much she hates that she can’t seem to get an accurate read on him at all while she seems to be an open book to him. It feels grossly unfair and just adds to her off-kilter feeling of a distinct lack of control in the situation.

He’s still staring at her, and she’s not sure what he’s reading in her expression but she kinda doesn’t want to stand here and feel like an idiot, so she pulls away as smoothly as she can manage. Waving towards the bathroom, she tries to smile at him reassuringly as she tells him she’ll be right back. He doesn’t look convinced, if that crease that appears between his eyebrows is anything to go by, and he reaches out to try and grasp her hand as she stumbles away. She waves her hand at him a little inanely and bolts, catching a glimpse of Kara looking surprised as Skye moves past her but she doesn’t stop. 

The bathroom is already occupied by at least one crying girl being comforted by her equally drunk friends. Skye smiles at them sympathetically as she edges past on her way to the sink, avoiding the one that is splashed with what looks suspiciously like vomit.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, her face is flushed and her eyes too dark, something a little dazed or maybe hyper in them. Her hands aren’t quite shaking, but her whole body feels alive with nerves.

Skye splashes water on her face, the cold feeling sharp on her overheated skin. Looking in the mirror, she tries to give herself her five millionth pep talk on this topic since the night she spent with Ward. _He’s a stripper_ , she reminds herself. _He is a hot as fuck stripper, who undoubtedly hooks up with girls who come to the club all the time. The fact that you look at him and can’t stop thinking about this being something more doesn’t mean this is anything more than just another notch in his bedpost as far as he’s concerned._

And that’s the problem right there. As much as she might come up with a million valid excuses for her friends about why she has avoided him since that night, it ultimately comes down to the fact that she knows that if she let herself feel anything for him it would take very little for her feelings to avalanche into something way bigger than she could control. And something serious is clearly not on the cards here, no matter what kind of thoughts take over her brain whenever she gets too close to him.

Clearly she isn't capable of keeping her emotions or her hormones in check when she gets too close to him, evidenced by how easily she was ready to go home with him again after dancing with him tonight. So the solution is definitely staying away from him.

Taking a deep breath, Skye stares at her reflection in the mirror and tries to convince herself that that is what she wants.

Then she steps out of the bathroom and her eyes are immediately drawn to Ward. He’s still on the dancefloor, but lingering near the edges now. She can see more than a few women looking like they’d like to make a move but he doesn’t seem to be paying the slightest bit of attention to any of them. Instead his eyes are scanning the room and she can tell the moment he spots her as a slow smirk begins to spread across his features. But then something weird happens, it actually looks like a genuinely happy smile. It’s an expression that she isn’t used to seeing on his face, something she’s only ever seen directed at her and only a few times. Something warm blooms in her chest at the sight of it, spreading into a fluttery feeling that settles in her stomach in a way that makes her feel about 13 years old in the most embarrassing way.

Ward starts to make his way through the dancers on the floor, evading the women who try to catch his attention with gracious but firm dismissal, his eyes only on Skye. At first she feels kind of frozen to the spot under that gaze, but then through sheer strength of will she draws on the memory of her self-directed pep talk in the bathroom and she makes her legs move. As she ducks through the crowd and out of Ward’s path, she spots her friends at a table near the edge of the dancefloor and makes her way towards them.

Judging by the look Jemma gives her, Skye’s flustered state must show very clearly as she approaches her friends.

Glancing over her shoulder, she spots Ward again, this time talking to Hunter. His eyes and focus still seem to be on her though, with an intensity that sends a spark of arousal through her traitorous body which seems set on ignoring all of her attempts at rationally talking herself out of this attraction.

“Are you ok, Skye?” Jemma asks, looking slightly concerned.

“Yeah,” Kara adds, grinning at her slyly. “You’re looking a little...overheated?”

Skye narrows her eyes at Kara and from Kara’s responding grin, she knows exactly why. “I’m fine, Jemma,” Skye says, turning her attention to her (currently) least traitorous friend. “I just needed a little breather.”

“Sure and you weren’t running away from Ward, when it looked like you were about to burn his clothes off with your eyes alone,” Bobbi says.

“Can you not?!” Skye begs exasperatedly.

“We could,” Kara chimes in. “But I think we kind of enjoy it more this way.”

Skye sticks her tongue out at her friend before swiping her drink and taking a sip. Kara splutters indignantly but the other girls laugh at the two of them. Settling onto the empty stool between Bobbi and Jemma, Skye tries her best to pretend that she can’t feel the weight of Ward’s gaze on her back.

“Come on Skye,” Jemma wheedles at her. “He’s a very attractive, very nice guy who clearly likes you. Why are you trying so hard to avoid that?”

“Because he’s a stripper!” Skye hisses. It seems a lot easier than getting into her whole psychology of the unwanted foster kid who is still scared of rejection at the age of 25.

Bobbi’s affronted look reminds her that that defense probably wasn’t the best choice either. “And that makes him undateable?” the blonde asks, a touch defensively.

“No! It’s not that, it’s just…” Skye flounders a little as she tries to think of a way out of the hole she’s dug herself into.

Thankfully Fitz chooses that moment to return to the table with a tray of drinks, the conversation momentarily forgotten as he hands them out to the girls.

“Oh, Skye, I didn’t know you were coming back so I didn’t get you one,” the Scot says as he grimaces at her apologetically.

“It’s fine,” she reassures him. “I can go get myself something.”

As she starts to get up from the table though, she remembers what sent her over here to hide in the first place.

“Is Ward still-?” Skye stumbles as she tries to think of a way to describe the way he was looking at her.

Kara apparently has no such problems however. “Watching you like he's a horny sex panther and you're the only thing he wants to eat? Yep.”

“So my question is why exactly are you trying to hide behind us instead of getting out there and letting him _eat_ you then?” Bobbi asks with a lascivious wink, definitely aided by her fifth vodka cranberry.

“I am not going back out there,” Skye insists exasperatedly. “Do you not remember what happened last time I danced with that man?”

“You had incredible sex and couldn’t stop blushing for a week? Yup, we remember,” Bobbi says as she gives Skye a not-so-gentle push to her feet.

Looking to Kara for help, her only response is an enthusiastic thumbs up and _“Get it, girl”_ mouthed at her from across the table. Shifting her gaze to Jemma, the response is pretty much the same, only slightly less subtle.

Glancing back out at Ward, she feels that sharp tug of heat pooling in her belly again. He looks so goddamn _good_. Bobbi’s right; it was at least a week before she could stop blushing and grinning like an idiot whenever anyone mentioned him. Or even anything that reminded her of him. She spent 20 minutes in the men’s cologne aisle when she accidentally discovered one that smelled like him. But the worst part, the thing that has kept her from asking Bobbi for his number or taking up any of her friends on their less than subtle hints at set-ups before tonight, is that it isn’t just the sex. She likes him. A lot more than she feels like she should. Even through the bickering, even with the way she finds it so hard to read his intentions when it comes to her, she feels a connection with him that she hasn’t felt in a really long time. A kind of kinship even if she’s not quite sure where it springs from. Maybe it’s just the bits and pieces of his past that somehow came up when their pillowtalk between rounds 2 and 3 last time turned to their childhoods that make her heart ache because she knows what it’s like to grow up like that. It’s the fact that she wants to get to know him better. 

Since Miles she hasn’t even been on a real date. The relationship ended so messily that she’s only just managing to build up a strong sense of herself after the wreckage their relationship left in its wake, and starting something with someone like Grant Ward seems like a recipe for disaster. But still...she can’t deny that she wants him. That maybe, in some reckless part of her that she is getting a little tired of trying to deny, she might want to take that risk after all. 

At the moment her fear of rejection is a little stronger however. While their dance made it very clear that he definitely wants _something_ with her, she’s really not sure how much more than that he wants. And she’s afraid that the more time she spends with him the more she is gonna want.

Stuck between her smirking friends on one side, and Ward on the dancefloor waiting for her, Skye feels like she’s about to be ambushed. Instead, she chooses cowardice for just a little longer and turns on her heel and heads back to the bar. Her friends are not remotely quiet in the disapproval of her direction but Skye just flips them off over her shoulder without turning around.

Trip is at the bar with a line of shot glasses in front of him and a blonde guy that she remembers faintly from Hunter’s party. Trip turns and greets her warmly and introduces her to the other guy, Lincoln, before inviting her to join them with the shots. They’re green and syrupy sweet with a tart aftertaste and they go down way too smoothly because Skye is already reaching for her second one.

“So,” Trip grins at her as he waves to the bartender for another round. “You and Ward seemed to getting friendly out there.”

“Not you too,” groans Skye. “Don’t think I didn’t notice just how _friendly_ you’ve been with Kara. What is all that about?” Turning the tables on Trip helps Skye feels slightly more in control, even as she fears it’s only an illusion.

“Honestly, Skye,” Jemma chides, sliding up to the bar. “Whatever is going on between Trip and Kara is between them. No need to pry.”

Skye’s jaw drops and she has to work hard to keep her eyes from bulging out of her head. Her mouth is gaping like a fish, shocked at the double standard amongst her friends. Coming to the conclusion there is no way she can fight this, she simply spins away from Jemma and grabs the shot from in front of Lincoln and downs it without another thought. 

“So she’s still in denial?” Trip asks Jemma.

“Completely,” her friend replies, as though Skye isn’t standing right there.

“How long do you think it will last this time?” he says.

“Bobbi has her money on 12:30am, Kara is going with closing time, but personally,” Jemma leans in conspiratorially, “I don’t think she’ll make it past 11:30.”

“That’s only a half hour away!” Skye interjects, sounding uncomfortably close to a whine.

“Oh girl, I wouldn’t bet against you,” Trip says to Jemma, still completely ignoring Skye. “Did you see how handsy things were getting?”

“I didn’t see, but I can imagine. I bet it was cozier than when she was on stage with him and gripping the chair like her life depended on it. I thought she was going to break it in half.”

“I don’t know about her chances with destroying one of the chairs,” Trip muses, raising an eyebrow at Skye as he grins slyly. “Now, Ward on the other hand might just stand a chance there. I mean, you’ve seen his arms right?”

Jemma’s grin takes on an almost a maniacal glint. It’s official. Skye hates her best friend.

“Oh, I think Skye had a much more thorough exploration than I did,” the Brit giggles as she takes a sip of her newly arrived drink with a flourish. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I can recall a very detailed conversation about the fine details of his physique after we came to watch the show.”

Yep. Definitely official. Skye is in the market for a new best friend.

“It’s not my fault he looks like a Spartan warrior,” Skye blurts out, then claps a hand over her mouth. _What on earth did she just say?!_

Lincoln chokes on his drink and finally Jemma and Trip acknowledge her, Trip crowing loudly and Jemma doubled over in laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” that low, warm voice says from behind her. She can feel him back there, even when he’s still a foot or two away.

She has no idea how long he’s been near and how much of the conversation he might have heard. Skye’s cheeks are burning as she turns around to face him. From the smirk teasing at the corners of his lips she’s pretty certain he at least caught her final comment.

He steps in closer, fully in her personal space now and Skye’s breath hitches a little at the heat of his body against her. His breath tickles against her ear as he leans in to speak in a voice low enough only she can hear him. “Spartan warrior, huh? Good to know my workouts are paying off.”

Skye shivers and unconsciously leans into him, the two of them standing too close to be anything other than intimate now, her shoulder tucked under the crook of his arm as she glances up at him. Smirking, she aims for snarky but the breathiness in her voice kind of ruins the effect. “What? All the women stuffing ones into your underwear every night aren’t enough of an ego boost for you?”

“I’d settle for one specific woman’s interest in my underwear,” he purrs. 

It’s such a ridiculous line that Skye bursts out laughing, but luckily, Ward is grinning right back at her in response.

“Does that line usually work?” she snickers.

For a moment, the cocky mask he wears slips and she seems a glimpse of the slightly nervous, almost bashful man underneath. “I have no idea. I’m not usually the guy with the lines.”

There is something so genuine in the way he looks at her, and Skye feels that ridiculous teenage fluttery sensation settle in her stomach again as she looks up at him from under her lashes. She can see a slight flush on his cheeks that matches her own and her heart is pounding as the fluttering feeling settles into something of a more steady buzz running through her body.

Skye is so caught up in Ward, that she has almost forgotten their friends standing less than two feet away from them.

That is, until a wave of crushed ice and tequila hits her square in the chest.

“Oh my goodness!” Jemma exclaims, eyes comically wide as she puts her free hand to her chest in exaggerated horror while the empty margarita glass dangles from the other. “I am so sorry, Skye, I can't believe I did something so incredibly clumsy!”

Jemma has never been a believable liar.

She seems to have taken every acting tip she's ever gotten from soap operas, going by her extreme overacting. Her attempt at contrition is no exception. Her voice rises on all the wrong syllables, giving the effect of someone who is trying out speaking to human beings for the first time in their life. Even Ward is smirking beside her, clearly not buying the charade for a second.

If anything, he looks smug.

Skye can feel the sticky liquid dripping from her hair and pooling in her bra uncomfortably, crushed ice melting as it slides down the neckline of her top and all she can do is stare at her (former) best friend in shock and horror.

“Oh dear, what can we do to fix this?” Jemma all but sing-songs as she fights to hide her growing grin. “I mean, we could try and clean you up a little in the washroom, but that shirt is ruined and you really look like you need a shower, I mean that drink just went _everywhere_ didn't it?”

And of course Ward steps in so smoothly that Skye could almost believe it was rehearsed.

“My place is pretty close,” he reminds her. “You can have a shower and I could lend you a shirt to wear home.”

Looking between Ward and a not-so-subtly smirking Jemma, Skye feels like she’s at the precipice of something much bigger than the situation actually warrants. If she goes home with Ward she knows she’s only going to be falling deeper into this slowly building infatuation than she already is. But as he holds his hand out to her in silent invitation, she knows that that battle was probably already lost the minute she walked into the bar. There is something almost apprehensive in his eyes as he waits for her decision, like maybe this might mean as much for him as it does for her. It’s that look that decides it for her. Reaching out to take his hand in hers, that spark of electricity that hums between them every time they touch, Skye feels like maybe it isn’t the worst battle to lose in the end.


	2. Chapter 2

The walk from the bar to Ward's apartment is nothing like the night they walked back from Hunter’s birthday - they are almost completely silent as they walk side by side this time, not stumbling against fences and trees with eager hands and mouths, unable to get enough of each other and unwilling to wait. This time there is just the heavy weight of anticipation lingering over them. They both know where this is going and Skye feels a knot of nerves in her stomach mixing with the heavy tug of desire that is building with each moment she spends this close to him.

At some point she realizes that she never dropped his hand after leaving the club, and she's not sure how she missed that considering how hyperaware she feels of his presence. His eyes are still looking straight ahead as he steers them easily around a pair of drunk guys on the footpath, who are either celebrating or about to start fighting, Skye isn't sure which. But even though he isn't looking at her, Skye feels certain she holds the majority of his focus. His thumb rubs lightly over her knuckles in a gesture that seems absent mindedly soothing but actually makes Skye's breathe stutter. She has never been so affected physically by anyone the way she feels with him.

She steals glances at him from the corner of her eye, letting her hair fall across her shoulder to act as a curtain. She finds she can’t watch him too long though, her cheeks warming as flashbacks of their last night together run through her head on a loop. His hand tightens around hers briefly, and she can see a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that lets her know he either saw the flush to her cheeks or heard the hitch in her breathing and he probably knows exactly where her mind has gone. Skye feels the faintest urge to kick him in his smug shins. But then she notices the way he has picked up the pace, the tightness in his jaw as he purposely avoids looking directly at her, and she realizes that she is not the only one who is feeling so affected by the energy between them.

She’s not entirely sure how long they’ve been walking, but it has to be at least 10 minutes and the neighborhood still doesn’t look familiar at all. She’s thinking he oversold the closeness of his apartment to the club.

As if he can feel the weight of her accusation before she even voices it, he shrugs apologetically as he admits his place isn’t _that much_ further. Then his voice drops an octave as he leans closer to murmur in her ear, “I just couldn’t stand the idea of you leaving without me.”

Skye shivers and it has nothing to do with the margarita in her cleavage. The heat of arousal, pooling deep in her abdomen and sending a flush across her chest, is doing more than enough to keep her warm in the crisp air of the fall night. Ward uses her shiver to move closer though, his arm sliding hesitantly around her waist as he pulls her into the warmth of his body. He still smells so fucking good. Skye’s cheek is tucked against his chest, and she barely manages to hold back the urge to rub her face against the soft fabric of his shirt over the hard muscle of his chest. That heady drunk feeling she gets around him is kicking in again, and the voice in the back of her mind that keeps chanting about how damn good he looks naked is finally louder than the voice of all her insecurities.

 

When they finally reach his apartment they are silent as the climb the stairs, shoulders brushing as they make their way up, hands clasped again, fingers entwined.

Skye feels like a blushing teenager, sneaking glances at him out of the corner of her eye. Neither of them have spoken in over a block and now they’re almost at his door and the anticipation is settling thick over her but they still haven’t said a word.

He doesn’t let go of her hand when he unlocks the door, almost like he’s afraid she might bolt. He doesn’t need to worry now though. No matter how logical her arguments with herself for reasons not to sleep with him again, her decision has been made.

She steps over the threshold on her own, stepping into his personal space when he doesn’t move away from the doorway. He’s looking at her mouth when she raises her eyes up to meet his, his gaze hot and intent and Skye’s breath catches in her throat when his tongue comes out to swipe across his own bottom lip. She leans further into him and tilts her head back a little in anticipation of the kiss but it never comes, instead she opens her eyes to find him still looking at her with that same intensity but not making a single move to act on it. Instead he steps back and tugs her gently by their still entwined hands to lead her down the hallway.

Ward walks through a doorway, through his bedroom ( _Skye can’t help her glance at the bed as they pass by it, her thighs clenching at the memories that flood her_ ) and into the bathroom. He finally releases her hand to turn on the light and Skye tries not to feel the emptiness at the lack of his firm grip around hers. He grabs a fresh towel from the cabinet and then pauses kind of awkwardly as he tries to read her expression or waits for her to say something either way, Skye can’t tell exactly. Unsure is not a look she’s used to on him. She decides to solve his dilemma by pulling her soaked and stained top over her head and dropping it to the tiled floor, leaving her breasts covered only by the lace cups of her bra. His gaze darkens as he stares at her, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t make a move closer. Still just watching her. So her hands move to the zipper on her skirt, sliding it down slowly before letting the slinky fabric slip down her thighs. Ward twitches like he’s about to take a step towards her, his hands clenching into fists by his sides, and Skye smirks at him. Her hands come up behind her back to unclasp her bra and then she’s sliding the straps down her arms and letting that fall to the floor as well, leaving her standing before him in nothing but her underwear and strappy heels.

Now he moves; almost like he has no control over the movement. He steps towards her with his hands outstretched, grazing them lightly from her hip bones up to her clavicle, skating around the curve of her breast in a barely there touch that has her thrusting her chest closer to him. He smirks, that fucking smug look again, and Skye nearly growls at him until he ducks his head down to lick a firm swipe up the side of her throat and the sound turns into something embarrassingly close to a whimper instead. She can feel his chuckle on her skin and she clenches her fingers in his hair and tugs sharply in retribution. The chuckle turns into a low groan that reverberates through her and sends a fresh wave of heat to her clit.

He moves down from her throat to her chest, his tongue flickering over her nipple before sliding along the curve of the underside of her breast, licking at the sticky residue from the spilled drink. The sight of his dark head between her breasts is enough to make her knees feel shaky, but then he turns his gaze up to meet her eyes as he takes one nipple between his lips, his teeth scraping sharply over the sensitive peak and Skye can’t help the groan that escapes her, somewhere between a prayer and obscenity.

His eyes still on hers, Ward moves lower, until he’s resting on his knees before her. His hands are sliding down the outside of her thighs as his lips move from one of her hip bones to the other, his tongue teasing at the waistband of her underwear as he moves across her abdomen.

His breath is hot on her through her underwear, and her hands are clenching in his hair again in anticipation. But then he’s pulling away, ducking lower as he undoes the clasp on one of her heels and slides it gently off her foot before moving to the other. The tile floor feels cool on her feet, in sharp contrast to the heat that fills every other part of her. And Ward’s hands are sliding around her ankles, tugging her legs a little further apart as he moves closer again. He takes his time moving up her legs, alternating between slow strokes of his tongue and teasing nips of his teeth and at this point Skye is fairly sure that her grip in his hair might be the only thing holding her upright.

When he finally makes it back to the junction of her thighs, she isn’t even embarrassed at the needy whimper that escapes her. All that matters in that moment is that she needs his fucking mouth on her. And for a moment she thinks that she’s going to get it. Instead he brushes his nose against her clit through the fabric of her underwear before moving to lightly bite at the tendon at the top of her thigh.

“Fuck, I’ve missed the way you taste,” his voice practically a growl against her skin. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this? How many times I’ve gotten myself off thinking about being between your thighs like this?”

His words send a new shiver of lust through her, along with something stronger at the image that his words conjure. _He’s thought about her. He wants_ her. 

It’s a dizzying rush and she’s once again grateful for the solid weight of him and her grip on his hair keeping her upright and steady.

“At least as many times as I have?” she responds, her voice is practically unrecognizable to herself. She sounds hoarse with the lust and need that have overtaken her brain completely.

Ward’s hands tighten where they rest against the curve of her ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh in a grip just shy of painful as he swears lowly against her thigh.

The time for his slow and teasing pace is evidently done, as he leans back to tug his shirt over his head, no time for undoing buttons apparently.

Skye only has a moment to appreciate the reveal of his bare torso - those fucking arms and the abs she’s never seen outside of Hollywood, before he’s sliding her underwear down her thighs with a quick questioning glance at her.

When she nods sharply, he moves back in, his mouth hungry on her flesh as he licks into her. Skye stumbles back a couple of steps, stopping when her hips hit the sink and she reaches one hand back gratefully to stabilize herself. Ward follows her easily, not that he has much of a choice with her other hand still clenched tightly in his hair. His hands reach up to grip her hips, pulling one leg over his shoulder, tilting her closer to his eager mouth as his tongue flicks hard against her clit before his lips close over the sensitive nub and he sucks hard. 

Skye’s knees do buckle slightly now, and it’s probably only his firm hold on her thighs that keeps her from collapsing against him. He continues sucking hard on her clit, the rhythm leaving her gasping as she claws at his hair, his shoulders, whatever she can reach. Then one of his hands is sliding down from her hip and between her thighs, two fingers sliding inside her easily with how wet she is by now and curling on each stroke as he hits the spot with expert precision. Skye’s legs are shaking as the heat builds in her, feeling everything in her tense in preparation for release, feeling the peak approach as her moans echo off the tile walls. 

It’s the way Ward groans, his mouth still on her clit and the sound vibrating off her flesh, that sends her over the edge though. Her cry is sharp and stuttered as she rocks against his mouth, her hands in his hair and her leg hooked over his shoulder dragging him closer, unable to get enough of the feel of his mouth and tongue and fingers.

When she comes down, her hips are still moving lazily against him. He’s moved his face only far enough away for his forehead to be resting against the jut of her hip bone, his ragged breaths fanning over her slick skin and his fingers still tracing light patterns on the inside of her thigh, drawing out the shivers. They stay like that for a long moment, both of them enjoying the bubble of intimacy her afterglow has provided, before Skye’s shaking legs finally necessitate a move.

Ward has to help her unhook her leg from over his shoulder in the end, his grip firm on her hips to steady her as she slumps back against the counter, boneless in the aftermath of her orgasm.

He presses one final kiss to the curve of her abdomen before he stands, wincing a little as his knees finally leave the tile floor.

Once he’s standing, he toes his shoes off and reaches down to tug off his socks before turning back to face her. Skye takes the opportunity to ogle his bare torso shamelessly. _Fuck. He looks so good._ One of her hands is reaching out to stroke him before she even realizes it and it hovers in mid-air for a second before she quickly draws it back to her side. Ward smirks a little at her flushed cheeks, a swagger in his step as he closes the distance between them and grabs both her hands. He places them both against the firm ridges of his abs, and the look in his eye is exactly like that night on the stage as he leans in to murmur in her ear. “It’s ok. You can touch, Skye.” 

He winks at her as he leans back, and if her legs weren’t still shaking from her orgasm she’d seriously consider heading for the door. (That’s a complete lie. There’s no way she’s leaving now, not with the promise in his dark gaze.)

Determined to wipe the smirk of his face though, Skye drags her hands up his chest, fingernails scratching lightly over his nipples and making him shudder. He flinches when her fingers skim over his neck and behind his ears and Skye chuckles. “Ticklish?”

Ward just shakes his head a little ruefully, but there is something about the look in his eyes as he stares at her that feels like it’s spreading warmth through her chest. He’s looking at her like just the sound of her laughter makes him happy, his hand coming up to stroke her cheek and sending that feeling of warmth blooming through her whole body. Leaning up on her toes, her hands clasped at the back of his neck, Skye presses her lips to his to stop herself from saying all the stupid things she suddenly feels like could burst out of her mouth at any moment.

It isn’t until their lips touch that she realizes this is the first time they’ve kissed tonight. It seems almost absurd after he’s already gotten her off and the realization makes her laugh suddenly, breaking the kiss. Ward is already pulling her back in though, his hand sliding into her hair and cupping her head as he tilts her mouth back to his.

For someone with such an air of cocky self-assuredness, there is something strangely vulnerable in the way he kisses. His lips gently coaxing hers open, the sound of the moan caught in his throat as her tongue brushes against his bottom lip, the way his hand tightens in her hair as he deepens the kiss.

Skye’s hands have left his neck and they’re moving down to the waistband of his jeans, fumbling with his belt until he moves to help her. Once that’s out of the way she bats his hands away as she quickly deals with his fly and then shoves his jeans and underwear down his hips in one move. Ward chuckles a little against her mouth at her eagerness, but the sound cuts off quickly as one of her hands wraps firmly around the hard length of his suddenly freed erection. Skye grins at the way he leans into her touch, the needy groan he can’t contain as her thumb swipes over the head and collects the moisture there. His forehead is resting against hers, more breathing against each other’s lips now than actually kissing. There is a heady feeling of power flowing through her veins at affecting him just as strongly as he does her.

His breathing is a little ragged when he finally pulls back from her, his expression a little regretful but his smirk quickly returning at the slight whine that escapes her. Leaning back down to kiss her quickly, firmly, he shoves his pants the rest of the way off and then pulls her towards the shower.

It’s a pretty amazing shower, big enough for four people in reasonable comfort, one side made up entirely of glass panels that reach almost to the ceiling and the rest of the walls covered in slate tiles from floor to ceiling. When Ward reaches behind her to turn on the water, the spray falls from above them like rain. Skye has never really been that much of a shower aficionado, but that might be about to change. She’s also never been much of a fan of shower sex either, but that opinion is _definitely_ about to change with the way Ward is looking at her.

In an effort to escape the butterflies that come from that look in his eyes, she tilts her head back and closes her eyes as the water runs through her hair and over her face. When she looks back at him, he’s still staring at her, still with that soft look in his eyes that makes her feel way too many things. She leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him again, drawing him down to her height with her hands on his shoulders as he laughs. She can feel his erection, heavy and hard as it presses against her belly, but he doesn’t seem in any rush to get off. He seems happy enough just kissing her, his hands sliding down her back to cup her ass as the water falls over them both.

Eventually they come up for air and he reaches out for the ledge behind her and grabs a bar of soap, lathering it up in his hands before sliding them across her boobs. He smirks wolfishly in response to her snicker. “What? I’m just being helpful, you don’t want any of that margarita stickiness getting left behind. I’ve got to be very thorough here.”

It’s such an unexpected kind of playfulness from him that Skye bursts out laughing, the sound echoing off the slate tiles and Ward grins in return as he leans in to kiss her open mouth. Then his soapy thumbs slide over her nipples and her lingering chuckle turns into a moan as she arches her chest into his touch.

“So it’s a totally selfless gesture on your part then?” she finally manages to respond when she pulls away to catch her breath.

“Completely,” he returns, his tone completely serious. “All for your own good.”

She might have made a snarky comment, something about being dirty, but his mouth is on her neck, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin and any and all thoughts vacate her brain immediately. She groans loudly when he sucks lightly at her jugular, her fingers clenching on his shoulders as her hips shift needily against his. He slides one of his thighs between hers and she moans again at the friction, his cock still pressing firmly against her stomach. Skye is barely even aware of the water still pouring down on them as the heat of him envelopes her, desire and need pooling low in her belly as she arches against him. He seems just as lost to the lust as her, growling against her shoulder as her hips thrust wantonly against his thigh.

Grant’s hands are on her hips, on her ass, gripping hard enough to leave marks, pulling her closer. Finally, he hauls her up to hitch her thighs around his waist, supporting her weight with one hand as the other slips down under her thigh to tease at her slick folds.

Skye startles a little at the sudden change in position, but his hold on her feels surprisingly secure, and then his thumb is brushing over her clit. She’s still sensitive enough from her first orgasm that the light pressure has her arching against him, her hands scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders. One long finger slides inside her and Skye’s grip on his shoulders tightens. She can feel his muscles flexing under her hands, but the way he’s holding her up still feels almost effortless on his part.

His mouth is on her neck, her shoulders, his teeth and tongue building the buzz in her veins as his finger works heat into her. His touch is light and teasing, not quite as much pressure as she wants and she tries to shift her hips against him. Her hold on his shoulders doesn’t give her the leverage she needs and her hands move to the glass door, sliding up until she’s gripping the edge of the frame above his head to hold herself up. The shift changes the angle and he slides a second finger inside her, causing her ragged breath to catch in her throat. A sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan escapes her as he curves his fingers to slide against her g-spot. Her grip on the glass is white knuckled, and her back arches towards him, head leaning back into the water, as the sensation overwhelms her.

The new position has her breast almost level with his mouth and he takes advantage of the placement, his teeth scraping over her nipple lightly and sending a current straight down to her clit like a bolt of electricity.

Her teeth are sharp in her own lip, her moans caught in her throat as he coaxes her body towards another release. She can feel it building, the muscles in her thighs clenching as she rolls her hips against his hand, heat pooling in her blood as she feels herself approaching the peak. He draws it out, fingers working to keep her at the precipice, but not quite enough to push her over it. The sounds coming from her are guttural and needy now, distant, almost like they are coming from someone else. Her entire awareness has been narrowed down to the pleasure he is drawing from her body - his fingers inside her, on her clit, his mouth on her breasts, everything working to make the world hazy and sharp at the same time.

When she comes it feels like it lasts forever, suspended mid-fall as the sensation floods her, muscles spasming around his fingers as her hips stutter. Her throat feels hoarse even though she can’t remember screaming, and there is a faint taste of blood where her teeth pierced her lip. Ward’s fingers are still inside her, held in place by her cramped muscles and she can still feel herself pulsing lightly around them as the aftershocks of her orgasm continue.

Her hands are still locked in their grip on the top of the glass, and she’s not sure she could command them to release even if she wanted to. Between that and his still steady hold on her, his right hand gripping bruisingly into the curve of her ass, she is being held up. Which is lucky because the rest of her body is now draped limply across him as she shudders through the last of her orgasm.

She’s not quite sure how long they stand like that, water still raining down on her back as the sound of their ragged breathing fills the room, but eventually he manages to slide his fingers out of her once her inner walls release their vice grip hold. He shifts his now free arm around to brace her weight and give his right arm a break, and Skye lazily tries to shift to take some of the weight off him. Using her grip on the glass and her thighs around his waist, she tries to leverage herself a little higher. As she pulls her body up though, the change in position has his cock brushing against her entrance. They both freeze for a second, Skye’s head lifting from where her forehead had been resting against his so she can pull back and meet his gaze.

His pupils look blown, his gaze hazy and she’s sure hers looks just the same. Both of them hold their breath as the moment lingers, and then Skye shifts just enough that the head of his cock slips inside her. She’s so wet that he slides in easily, and Ward swears harshly under his breath and his eyes drift shut as his hands tense against her hips.

Neither of them move for a moment. There is a new kind of tension in the air and she knows they both know how risky and dumb this game is, but he feels so fucking good inside her even if it’s just the head. And then he shifts his hold on her, sinking in a little deeper and Skye groans at the feeling of him slowly filling her.

His eyes are open again, dark and intense as he watches her face, and she can’t resist the desire to roll her hips until he is fully inside her. With no barrier between them she can feel the ridge of the head of his cock as it slides against her walls, and she moves her hips again, suddenly desperate to feel some friction as she feels the heat building inside her once more. Ward groans when she moves, thrusting into her roughly as he moves so her back is against the tile wall and she finally has to give up her hold on the glass. He thrusts again and then pauses, and she can see the struggle in his face as he tries to hold himself still, his grip on her hips keeping her from moving back against him. As they both try to steady their breathing and count all the reasons they need to stop and grab a condom, Ward reaches over and turns off the water. She can see the reluctance in his eyes as he pulls out of her, and she can’t stop the whimper at the loss of him.

Still holding her in his arms, her legs wrapped securely around him, he swiftly turns and carries her out of the shower and deposits her on the bathroom counter. He leaves her only long enough to lean over and grab the towel he pulled out for her earlier, wrapping it around her as he quickly and efficiently rubs her back and shoulders dry, leaving her to wring at least a little of the moisture out of her hair and run the towel over her stomach and thighs as he quickly dries himself off and then he’s standing between her parted thighs again, leaning in to kiss her.

It starts out light, and she’s pretty sure it was meant to be quick, but when he starts to pull away she reaches up to tangle her hands in his hair and hold him to her as she deepens the kiss.

One of his hands reaches out to cup her breast, while the other slides up to card through her hair and tilt her head back as he leans in closer. His kiss is rough and intense, all of his gentleness building up to this, and she can feel his erection straining against her stomach again. When she reaches down to grip his length in her hand, pumping lightly, his hips thrust hard against her and he growls harshly into her mouth. His hand in her hair tightens as he tugs a little with his grip close to the roots, and his teeth nip a little at her lips as his kiss gets rougher. She likes the feeling of heady power that comes over at the feel of his stoic and calm facade beginning to slip a little, and her hand tightens around him as her pace builds.

After a couple of minutes though, his hand comes down to grab her wrist and still her movement. There is an almost pained determination in his expression as he hooks her thighs around his waist again, scoops her up into his arms, and moves towards the doorway.

When they reach the bed he drops down to his knees and crawls up the sheets with her still wrapped around him, until he can place her down with her head against the pillows. Skye has a brief moment to feel guilty about how wet her hair still is, but then he’s kissing her again and she isn’t thinking much of anything at all.

She can feel the tension in him now as he holds himself back from pushing into her, kissing her until she moans instead, focusing all his attention on her still. When he finally pulls away to grab a condom from the bedside table drawer, Skye pushes him onto his back and takes control.

Smirking down at him as she straddles his hips, she reaches out and scratches her nails lightly up his abs before grabbing the condom out of his hand. He props himself up on his elbows to watch her as she leans down to kiss her way across his chest and stomach, nipping lightly at the ridged muscles as she passes. Ward laughs at her, and she can feel the rumble of it in his abdomen as she curves her tongue across the smooth skin there.

As she dips lower though, his chuckle dies away sharply. When her tongue slides down to trace the length of him, his hands come down to clench in her hair, and he moans as she takes him fully in her mouth. His hands in her hair are rougher than she usually likes, but with him she finds she enjoys the feeling, the way his careful control is slipping as he gives himself over to her. The sounds he makes as she wraps her mouth around him and takes him as deep as she can send a fresh flood of arousal through her. When he tugs her up to kiss him again with a needily whispered plea, she’s only too happy to appease.

Her hands are less than steady as she tears open the packet and rolls the condom down the length of him, eagerness and lust moving her quickly as she straddles his hips again and positions his erection at her entrance before sinking down onto him. They both groan loudly as he fills her, Ward’s hand sliding up her thighs to grip at her hips as she begins to move above him.

She moves slowly at first, drawing figure eights with her hips and his fingers dig into her skin, his arms tight with tension as she draws it out. One of his hands leaves her hip to move up to her breast, pinching her nipple lightly. Her hips grind down harder at the sensation, and so he does it again, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he tries to use his hold on her hip to take control of the pace. Skye grabs both his wrists and pins them to the bed by his sides, shaking her head at him with a smirk.

“My turn now, control freak,” she teases.

Ward groans in response, the sound stuttering as she rises up on her knees until only the tip of his cock is still inside her and then slides back down on him roughly. She repeats the motion a few times and his hips begin thrusting up to meet her. Gradually they find a rhythm, and then Skye shifts a little, the angle changes, and he hits that spot on every thrust. The sounds of their moans mingle together and the room fills with the rough noise of their bodies colliding as they begin to move faster, breath harsh as their bodies become sweat slick and slide against each other.

Skye didn’t think she could come again after the two mind blowing orgasms he already gave her, but she can feel that familiar tightening and heat building as they move together.

Their fingers are linked now where her hands pin his down, his hips thrusting hard up to meet her movements, foreheads pressed together as their breath mingles and Skye thinks briefly that she’s not sure she’s ever felt so connected to someone during sex before this.

He comes before her this time, the movement of his hips beginning to stutter as his hands grip hers tightly, jaw clenched as he tries to hold it off. Skye clenches around him hard as she whispers filthy things under her breath, encouraging him to lose control.

It’s the feel of him pulsing hot and heavy inside her that sends her over the edge. Her clit rubs roughly against his pelvis as she shifts, and she’s gone; spiralling headlong after him into oblivion.

She’s sprawled across him when she comes back to herself, her sweaty cheek pressed against his chest, his heart thumping rapidly under her ear. Their hands are still entwined and somehow that feels almost more intimate than anything else they just did.

They lay like that for awhile, until their breathing slowly begins to return to normal. Eventually though, they have to deal with the condom and Skye shifts off him to let him dispose of it, collapsing onto the bed. The sheets got pushed down while they were fucking, and he pulls them back up to cover her. He pulls her back into his arms once he’s done, leaning in to kiss her again. His hands reaches out to grab hers again, sliding his fingers between hers and clasping tight.

“So, are you staying for breakfast this time?” His voice sounds a little hoarse from disuse, but she can hear the hint of vulnerability that his light tone doesn’t quite manage to mask.

She thinks about all her careful rational reasons not to try for something with him, and the exasperated reactions from her friends when she tried to lay them out. Jemma had been the one to cut the deepest with her simple response _“Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you should miss out on something that could be amazing, Skye.”_

At the time, Skye had brushed off her friends’ words. But now, here, she has to really think about it. No one has ever affected her the way Ward does, not just the mind blowing sex, but the connection she feels between them, the way he makes her laugh and the way he seems to understand her. All the ways he pushes back and riles her up and challenges her. She could run from this. But if she does she knows she will always wonder about what could have been.

“If you can make crepes then you’re never getting rid of me,” she jokes. Her hand squeezes his though, to try and communicate the unspoken part of her words.

His arm tightens around her and his lips press against her forehead. “I think I can manage crepes.”

She still has that burst of butterflies and trepidation at everything he makes her feel, but as he nestles her against him, curving his body around hers and pressing light kisses against her hair in a way that seems almost absent minded, she thinks maybe this might be worth the risk to see where things could go with him. She might get hurt, it might end badly, but for the first time in so long she wants to try and see what happens. Drifting off to sleep in his arms, exhausted and completely satisfied, it feels well worth the risk.


End file.
